#jaimsa fic

[obvious-captain-rogers]

Daenerys coronation fit from the final chapter of my fic The Lion of Lannister and the Little Bird It’s been a long journey writing this fic and finding all the visuals that I wanted to help bring it to life, but I’m hyped about finally coming to the end and with the response to it. So thanks for sticking with it!

[thkingslayer]

mini jaimsa fic rec list

hello!! I recently read a terrific jaimsa fic that I wanted to share with those of you interested in this pairing. since I wanted to share it though, I figured why not add a few other stories that I’ve enjoyed. I haven’t been reading as much of them lately, but these are my go-to’s. If you know of any fics similar to these below, please feel free to share them with me/us in the replies or with a reblog!! hopefully at least one person (who I think sent an ask eons ago) enjoys this! (also... I will be finishing my jonsa one too if that interests you.)

*******

Yearning [NR] by lttledcve & spinncr  

Common understanding is that a Mark is the name of a soulmate, but he knows that’s not true because his don’t match. There are theories that Marks are the will of the gods, but there are no gods so he doesn’t believe that either. Then there are the ones who say the Marks are who you want the most, the ones that you yearn for with your soul, not not just your body or heart. But that’s not right, either.

Jaime has always hated his Mark.

(ps. this was the fic that made me want to make this whole post sooo a+++)

The Eyes See True [E] by LadyLannister

AU. Tyrion's escape plan for Jaime is successful, and he leaves Riverrun without having made a vow to return Catelyn Stark's daughters. He arrives immediately after the Battle of Blackwater and learns the truth about Cersei much sooner. Joffrey and Sansa are still engaged. How will his presence change events? Slightly Older Sansa/SPOILERS for books & upcoming seasons

(ps. a classic and despite not being finished / updated in years, a must read)

I know what would fix me [E] by just_a_dram

In a world where Jaime doesn't go South to be crushed by a ceiling, he serves as Lord Commander to Sansa's Queen of the North. Two lonely creatures in need of more than they are willing to name.

I’m not a princess (this ain’t a fairytale) [E] by K_R_Closson

After Joffrey beheads Ned Stark, and his engagement to Sansa is broken, he decides to host a tournament, with the prize being Sansa's hand in marriage. When Jaime Lannister shows up at the last minute to win it, she's afraid she'll be stuck in King's Landing until Joffrey's cruelty does her in. But Jaime made a promise and, one way or another, Lannisters always pay their debts.

Tabula Rosa [T] by Laine Montgomery

Jaime and Sansa disappear. Alternate universe.

[dresupi]

Fae - Jaime Lannister/Sansa Stark

for @evolution-of-magic​ 337 words Rated T Fae AU

~~~~~~~~~~

Sansa was hard-pressed to look at everything around her. As she was being led down a flowered path, she knew she should be frightened, but anything would be better than the marriage she’d escaped. She knew Fae didn’t love the way humans did, but she also knew they didn’t hurt like they did either.

They might hurt in different ways, but she be more apt to survive it.

She’d never survive Ramsay.

The one she was promised to, sat on a wooden throne that seemed to appear before her, and Sansa’s breath caught in her throat when she saw him. He really was gorgeous. In a terrifying sort of way.  And his hand was solid gold. Just like the legend said.

She swallowed thickly and approached the throne when he crooked his finger. Not the gold one. The flesh and blood one.  She moved forward and bent to curtsey.  So deep it made her hips and knees ache. Old wounds reminding her of what she was escaping.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said softly, his finger crooking on her chin as he drew her to her full height. Which was nearly as tall as him.

“I wanted to show reverence, my lord.”

He smiled and shook his head. “I’m no lord, Sansa. I’m to be your husband. You’re to be my equal.”

She wasn’t sure what to do with that, but as he looked deeply into her eyes, she felt more at ease with him. So she responded. “Not sure I’d know what to do as your equal.”

“You’ll figure it out soon enough. Freedom is an easier lesson to learn than the opposite. And so help me, you’ll never belong to anyone else, Sansa Stark.”

She liked the sound of that, but a tiny voice at the back of her mind told her that he couldn’t ensure that. No one could.

“Yes I can,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. It put her at ease. Even if it didn’t make sense just now.

[sansalittleblackdress]

Tamed

The Lannisters had passed her around like a harlot. First she was betrothed to Joffrey, then married to Tyrion, and now married again to Ser Jaime. For her second wedding, they didn’t even bother to dress her as a Stark. She was a Lannister marrying her good-brother, a wolf that had already been tamed by the lion. So they trussed her up in red and gold, a gown nearly as beautiful as the ones the queen favored.

This time she did not have to kneel for her groom. Ser Jaime—perhaps just Jaime to her now—was tall and handsome, if clumsy in his attempt to put a new cloak around her shoulders. He was a one-handed knight, useless as a bird without wings, and Sansa would have pitied him if she hadn’t hated him so much.

This made very little difference in her situation. Tyrion was at the Wall, her first marriage annulled and her second in place. It seemed that the gods had no sympathy to spare, no matter how zealously she prayed to go home, because Lord Tywin insisted that Jaime take her to Casterly Rock before the week’s end. 

It wasn’t Winterfell, but neither was it King’s Landing, and for that Sansa could only be thankful. 

[lluvia185]

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Sansa Stark, Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister (past) Series: Part 3 of Make me feel Summary:

Sansa chose Jaime and their marriage is turning out to be more successful than any of them could imagine. But the Gods are cruel and war is ruthless.

[southsidestory]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Jaime Lannister / Sansa Stark

Summary: A lost knight and a songbird, their love twisted and tangled through many lives.

The Lannisters had passed her around like a harlot. First she was betrothed to Joffrey, then married to Tyrion, and now married again to Ser Jaime. For her second wedding, they didn’t even bother to dress her as a Stark. She was a Lannister marrying her good-brother, a wolf that had already been tamed by the lion.

[jeaanmoreau]

Jaimsa au where Lady is still alive and quite taken with Jaime. It irritates the hell out of Sansa but Jaime loves to get a rise out of Sansa.

this was going to be super short and then I got carried away so i guess this is now part 1/????? based off the beginning of season 8 and completely ignoring the whole “we have until nightfall” part of the trailer because the army of the dead don’t help with relationship development k thx

The betrayal started like this: a paced circling of the man standing in the Winterfell Great Hall awaiting his judgment.

It mirrored the pacing Lady had done around Littlefinger, around the Umber boy and the Karstark girl and any other man or woman who presented themselves to the Lady of Winterfell.

Sansa knew that it aroused whispers, mutterings, and suspicion, how implicitly she trusted her direwolf. How quick she was to make up her mind after a bristling of her pet’s fur, a baring of her teeth, or a gentle bow of her head before she padded back to her master, back legs bending under her massive body. But Lady had instincts beyond human, and they never erred.

Jaime Lannister had his hands at his sides, jaw set, while Lady crept up towards him with a low quiet grumble – almost too low, but Sansa was acutely aware of it, and it made her breath catch in her own throat.

There was an unsettled silence in the Hall after everybody had said their piece to and about him. Northern Lords loathed him by name. The Targaryen queen had not passed his sentence because it wasn’t hers to pass, as Sansa didn’t hesitate to remind her. This was her home.

Tyrion had spoken up for his brother, but that surprised nobody. So had Lady Brienne. And then, surprising everybody, Bran. Or rather, the Three Eyed Raven.

It was painful, from time to time, how obvious it was that there was little to nothing left of her brother.

All the while, Lady stood motionless at her side, staring, watching, waiting, until silence settled once more and she was able to go inspect the newcomer. Around and around she went, with Sansa’s heart beating faster and Jaime Lannister’s shadowed green eyes staring right at her.

And then, after sniffing and sniffing, Lady’s rumbling stopped and in one swift movement she dropped down to sit and knocked her head against the man’s hand.

The silence continued to stretch, and Sansa sat up a little straighter in her seat, lips parted in surprise as she continued to hold Ser Jaime’s now slightly alarmed gaze. “Lady,” she called, voice clipped. The direwolf’s ears perked towards her, but she didn’t move.

Eyes shifted towards her, and Sansa refused to flush. This had never once happened before. It was clear that the Kingslayer had her wolf’s approval, but to stay? “Lady,” she tried again, a little more sharply, and let her hand drop down next to her to beckon her over.

It took a few seconds, as if the wolf was being stubborn about it, before she tilted her muzzle into the golden hand and stood back up to pad towards her. The embarrassment would not cripple her. Lady safely at her side once more, Sansa let her fingers bury into the soft grey fur and held her head high. “You’ll be weary from your journey, Ser Jaime. One of our servants will escort you to your rooms.”

And that was that.

–

Day turned into night, and Sansa managed to convince herself that it had been a lapse of judgment. Perhaps she’d not fed enough last night, and Lady was feeling resentful. Perhaps Jaime had picked up a wild rabbit on his way here and he had it in his pocket. Perhaps a lot of things.

Except that supper was served – not a feast, as they were being sensible with rations – and as Sansa walked into the Hall with her sister, the wolf paused for a split second before veering off towards the far end, where the golden haired man sat alone with a bowl of stew in front of him.

“Hello, again,” he greeted the wolf under his breath, lifting his good hand cautiously until Lady slid under it, tail wagging from side to side. Green eyes met blue as she approached, fingers digging into her palms at this blatantly ridiculous display of behaviour from her wolf. “Lady Sansa.”

“Ser Jaime.”

The man had a hint of a smirk playing at his lips, but he hid it carefully. “This is the friendliest direwolf I believe I’ve ever come across.”

“Isn’t she the only direwolf you’ve ever come across?” Sansa challenged, unable to help her irritated tone of voice. Just because she’d granted him a pardon, and sanctuary, didn’t mean she had to like him. “Lady, come.”

Again, the wolf didn’t move, and Jaime’s hand started slowly stroking her fur as he looked at her, glancing up at Sansa briefly before leaning back to the wolf, as if sharing a secret. “I’m treading on thin ice around here already, Lady. I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t give Lady Sansa any more reason to exile me.”

The nerve of him. Sansa had half a mind to storm off, leave the wolf wherever she wanted to stay and chalk it up to insanity. But this was Lady. Her beloved direwolf. The only one who had been with her through everything. The wolf whimpered quietly, looking up at Sansa, mouth open happily.

And Seven Hells, what was she supposed to do? Drag her off?

Composing herself, she motioned to the chair across from his at the table. “May I join you for dinner?”

It was his turn to be startled, and he stared at her with something akin to disbelief. “It would be my honour.” The words were rehearsed. Second nature. How many times had he said them in his lifetime?

There had been a time where Sansa would have swooned at the thought of sharing a meal with Jaime Lannister.

Now, he was just a man. A man without a hand and with nothing left to lose, coming to fight the army of the dead and steal her pet.

–

If Sansa had thought (or hoped) that this was a temporary obsession, then she was very much mistaken.

Days bled into nights that bled into days, each seemingly shorter than the next, and while Lady still followed her around like a trustworthy shadow, slept at the foot of her bed, and behaved beautifully, every time Jaime Lannister was in the near vicinity, she lost all common sense.

What the man had ever done to merit such unwarranted affection, Sansa did not know. But the wolf was undoubtedly under his spell. Would seek him out in a crowded room and bound over to lap at his good fingertips whenever they crossed paths. And Sansa would have to blush furiously and pretend that she wasn’t at all altered by the situation.

But oh, she was. That Lady would betray her like this! That she would unabashedly throw herself at a man she barely knew. A Lannister at that. No matter how different from his sister he appeared to be. No matter all the good things Tyrion spoke of him, or how honourable Brienne claimed he was. None of that mattered, because there were plenty of good and honourable people around, and Lady wasn’t throwing herself at them.

It seemed that it only took Jaime a few days to get comfortable with his place at Winterfell. Comfortable enough that he had stopped hiding that smirk he got whenever Lady showcased her preference in front of her. Comfortable enough that he had tossed in a, “Now you go off to bed with your mistress. I know you’d much rather come with me, but she’s much more important. Do protect her.”

To Sansa’s total and utter indignation, of course.

“Ser Jaime, if you’re quite finished buttering up my wolf, you ought to think about getting some rest. I hear your training has been difficult, and you need all the strength you can muster.”

The man had straightened up and smirked at her, a hint of the previously arrogant golden boy she assumed he had been. “Lady Sansa, are you perhaps jealous?”

“Jealous!?”

“That’s what I said, yes.”

“Lady,” she snapped, more insistently, until the wolf walked back towards her. Jaw clenched, she met the man’s eyes. “Good night, Ser Jaime.”

With a whirl of her cloak, she turned around to leave, and she could’ve sworn she heard a laughing, “Goodnight, my Lady,” from behind her as she went.

–

Sansa tried to bargain.

“Will you tell me what it is? Am I not paying you enough attention?” Fingers carefully and gently stroking the wolf’s fur at night, the warmth of her large body over her making her feel impossibly hot. “I have duties to attend to now, Lady. Is this about that? What do you see in him?”

What did she see in him?

Smart as she was, Lady was still an animal, and she could hardly recognise that a man was handsome. Resentment or not, Sansa could admit that Jaime Lannister was still as handsome as she’d found him when they’d first crossed paths so many years ago. So what was the appeal of him? It kept her up for hours until she dozed off restlessly.

Still, Lady was relentless, and Sansa found herself becoming more and more aware of the Lannister’s presence, as if she herself was being attuned to him the way her wolf seemed to be. She walked into a room and sought him out at the same time Lady did. There was no prying her away from him now over supper, so she’d taken to sitting at his table, where little to nobody else would sit.

People talked, of course. How could they not? Lady had only ever had eyes for Sansa before this. And now here she was, like a common whore, curled at his feet.

“You’re wrong, you know,” Jaime told her conversationally on one of such occasions. “I briefly met your brother’s direwolf once. Robb’s. Almost tore my face off, if I remember correctly.”

Sansa’s eyes flitted between his face and her food. “You probably deserved it.”

A dry laugh. “Are you always so quick to judge, my lady?”

“A wolf’s instinct is never wrong.”

And Jaime was once again in her field of vision, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “I suppose it’s a matter of time, then. Before you find me as charming as Lady clearly does.”

Sansa had not known how to respond to that.

–

The first battle rolled around sooner than they had all been expecting.

First, because when it was over, it was agreed that the numbers were low. Much too low. There would be more, they knew. They lost many good people. It appeared that everybody had been steeling themselves for this moment, that when it came around, nobody had the spirits to mourn.

There had been a moment, amidst the chaos of the night and the screams and distant sound of swords and shields clanging against each other, while Sansa waited with the other ladies in the Hall, that Lady had bristled.

She had been alert at her side the whole time up until then. And then, without warning, her muscles had gone taut, lip pulled back into a snarl and before Sansa could ask her what was wrong, she had taken off.

The desperate call of “Lady!” that Sansa had attempted had been futile, as she had expected it to be.

Dawn had risen, and Jon had stormed into the hall to announce their small victory, and asked for all hands to help with the wounded.

Jaime Lannister was wounded.

A leg cut, not too deep, nothing that couldn’t be wrapped up according to their Maester, and there was Lady, covered in mud and blood, refusing to leave his side.

“She came out of nowhere, my lady,” Brienne had told her when she’d gone to see him. “Ser Jaime had stepped in to cover my back when a wave of the dead came at us, and I saw him surrounded, falling off the wall. I was fending them off myself, and then your wolf – Lady – she was on them, ripping them apart and the last thing I saw was her dragging him away from the battle.

And gods, Sansa wished she could say she was surprised to hear this, that this was where Lady had leapt to when she’d left her, but no. For whatever reason, Lady had decided that Jaime Lannister was worth her love and protection.

What was Sansa to do but accept it?

Perhaps Lady knew something after all.

–

“I believe I owe your direwolf my life.”

Sansa looked up from the letter she’d been reading towards the door of her chambers, where Jaime stood, leg bandaged but otherwise looking healthy. “So I hear,” she responded, not even blinking as Lady stood up from her side to walk over to him and start licking at his hand.

Jaime stayed silent for a moment. “Does it bother you so much?” he asked after a while, and she found him looking at Lady.

This was not making her look good. Sansa heaved a sigh, pushing herself to her feet and walking over to them, letting her fingers scratch behind Lady’s ears slowly. “I’m happy she saved your life. I hear you were brave.”

Another silence, and Jaime turned his face up to her. After a beat, she did the same, and found her stomach leaping slightly, fingers stilling on Lady’s head.

“She’s a smart one. Too smart.” A nod, and a small hint of a smile. Sansa didn’t know if it was a bitter one or now. “She takes after you in a lot of ways.”

The compliment took Sansa by surprise. What was she to say to that?

She was saved from responding by Jaime continuing. “I hope you’ll learn to trust me, too.”

Without another word, he gave a curt nod and walked away, leaving her to wonder what on earth had just transpired between them.

[chininja]

Season 8 fix it. Jaime x Sansa + Thronesex. The Queen of the North has had yet another hardworking and stressful day. Her betrothed see's it fit to make his lovely Queen feel better. ;)

The moment the final petitioner leaves the room, the rest of her court and the guards following suit, Sansa feels Jaime’s breath on her neck before his stubble scratches her delicate skin as he grazes his teeth against her pulse. Her breath hitches, and her arm grasps at his head, fingers tightening in his hair when he sucks on her skin lightly.

“J-Jaime,” she whines, no longer feeling like a queen, simply a woman with the man who wouldn’t need to be told twice to devote his body to her pleasure in supplication. Sansa feels the laces of her dress loosen and tugged to the side so that a warm hand can creep in and knead at her  bare breast, foregoing her shift when she dressed this morning. The queen bites at her lip to stifle her moan, until her head is tilted so that her shield’s lips are but a breath away from hers.

“I want to hear you,” Jaime tells her gruffly. “I want the whole castle to hear you.”

She is still seated on her throne, Jaime standing behind her so that she can’t feel him. But that only seems to spurn him further, hand going back to her breast, kneading it, before wetting his fingers and rolling her nipple between them. It is an uninhibited moan that comes from her then, basking in her pleasure, uncaring of any passersby. 

“Jaime, wh-what’s gotten into you?” She tries to ask him, nipping at his lips lightly before licking and biting at his stubbled jaw.

“I know how much you love your people,” his hand now moving onto the other breast, treating it much the same way. His breath hot in her ears, before he takes a lobe in his mouth, tugging on it lightly in the way that causes her to mewl. (Gods he loves the sounds she makes, how they cause his blood to heat, his cock to harden - ) 

“But I also know it leaves you fatigued and, frankly, cranky in the evening.” He pacifies her affront by dragging her dress higher, higher until it reaches her mid thigh, easier to get his hands under them and into her small clothes. Which, as Jaime finds out, seems to have gone missing.

“No small clothes, my queen?” He hums in her ear, feeling for her cunt and finding her damp. She is nowhere near where he wants her to be. But no matter, Jaime thinks, it’ll only take a moment. He nips at her ear once more. “How positively wicked of you,” he teases her, his fingers lightly running over her curls.

Sansa raises her hips, chasing the warmth and pleasure she knows he can give her. “Jaime,” she whines, once more. (Gods he really does love the sound of his name coming from her.) 

He loves her like this, stripped of her courtly mask, wanton and unashamed. “Tell me what you need, Your Grace,” She hasn’t really touched him yet, but by her sounds alone, Jaime feels the need to relieve some pressure from his hardened cock. So he rubs himself lightly against her throne, determined to make this about her before he finds his release.

The hand in his hair has long been gone. Instead, Jaime finds that Sansa’s own hand rolls a pinked nipple between her fingers, squeezing a mound every now and then. The Lannister knight couldn’t help but groan at the sight of her. “That’s it, my love,” he tells her gruffly. “Make yourself feel good while I fuck you with my fingers.” Her eyes are lidded as they turn to him, eyes so dilated with lust they’re almost black. Jaime nearly comes in his breeches when Sansa drags his hand away from her cunt to suck at his fingers before returning them to where she needs them the most.

He works in fervor to bring her release then. His fingers running through her folds, finding them slicker than they were earlier. Her hips stutter once more to chase his fingers, him gathering the slick before he presses two fingers into her and pumping slowly. 

Jaime nips at her neck once more, unable to stop himself from touching all of her that he can reach. When he crooks his fingers inside her, his queen sounds out a long and drawn out moan, the hand on her breast moves to grip at his hair once more to kiss him hard on the lips - more tongue and teeth than any finesse. 

“More,” she breathes out to him. “Harder,” she calls out. When Jaime rubs his palm on her clit, lightly and then firmly just the way she needs, his fingers still pumping inside of her - he starts to feel her clench around him. He pumps harder then, unrelenting, until her mouth opens in a silent scream, her hips rising and falling against his fingers as she rides out her climax.

Jaime only pulls out when he finds her too sensitive for more, but couldn’t resist having a taste of her before he wipes his hand clean on his breeches.

There are many looks on her that he loves to see, but this is definitely at the top of his list - chest heaving, face flushed, lashes fluttering; the look of debauchery. Sansa twists in her throne then, and he moves more to the side so that when they reach for each other, it is easier for them both to drown each other in kisses. 

“That was thoroughly well done, ser,” she whispers against his lips, tongue flicking against his bottom lip before pulling away.

“I serve at the pleasure of my queen, Your Grace,” his hand is at the back of her head, gripping it lightly to tilt it back so that he could graze his teeth on her neck once more.

If the moment they leave the great hall, the servants couldn’t look at their queen in the eye, no one says a word of it.